Choice
by melliemellie
Summary: "You're offering me a choice?" Bruce queried in disbelief. "Of course," Joker confirmed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It'd be no fun if I had to force myself upon you. I know you'll give a much better-ahem-performance if you're enjoying yourself, too. I want our first time to be memorable for all the right reasons."
1. Choice

I don't really have any excuse for this other than finding the most amazing Joker cosplay picture on Google (looky looky: post/151234657734/i-dont-know-who-this-person-is-but-this-is) and deciding to come up with some way of including it in a story.  
I'm warning everyone now that, not only is this my first attempt at writing Batjokes, but it's also my first time writing detailed smut and I blame frenetic-kinetic entirely for encouraging me. She's a terrible influence on me!

* * *

Wood creaked beneath heavy boots, as Batman ascended an old wooden staircase, silently cursing the entire city's police force for the millionth time. Anonymous tips were always tricky and, normally, they were Commissioner Gordon's department, but, recently, the tips filtering through the GCPD had forged a habit of becoming very reliable. A little _too_ reliable in Bruce's opinion, although he never voiced it. Whatever his suspicions, they had led to the successful arrest of five members of a newly formed gang, seeking to wreak havoc across Gotham. Now, only one member remained at large and it was due to another of those tips that Batman had been dispatched to fly to the outer edges of the city's suburbs, to an old abandoned house, where the crook was supposed to have been spotted several times in the past week.

Bruce had arrived twenty minutes ago and, if anyone _was_ here, they'd certainly managed to find themselves a good hiding spot. The entire ground floor was devoid of life, save for the mould growing on the walls and the leftover food occupying the refrigerator. The vigilante had a sneaking suspicion that a sweep of the second floor would prove just as futile, but, despite his assertions, Batman was nothing, if not thorough.

The second floor consisted of three rooms. One was a small bathroom that didn't appear to have been used any time recently, until Bruce spied the objects scattered about the edge of the sink. Closer inspection revealed them to be various forms of makeup, which made the vigilante frown. All the members of the gang had been reported as male, as far as he could recall and he was sure the tip had said they'd seen a _man_ entering this house. Unless it was a disguise, maybe? Despite the confusion, the makeup proved that, at the very least, _someone_ had been here and very recently, if the newness of the packaging was anything to go by.

With renewed interest in the endeavour, Bruce continued his sweep of the other rooms. The first bedroom was as empty as the rest of the house, which meant that there was only one place left for anyone to hide.

With a firm grip on the door handle, Bruce entered the second bedroom and found…nothing. Literally _nothing_. The room was completely bare, save for a wooden chair in the centre and a table by the window. There were no furnishings of any kind, not even carpet or curtains and it left Bruce wondering why it would have been set up this way.

As his eyes took in his surroundings, the whine of door hinges had him spinning around. The door of the bedroom-if it could even be classed as such, anymore- closed, revealing a tall figure leaning against the wall, one hand tucked into the pocket of a full-length coat, the other responsible for closing the door. With the dim amber of streetlights the only available source of illumination, it was hard to distinguish any of the stranger's features, as they lingered in the shadows.

"Show yourself," Bruce demanded. The stranger didn't look especially dangerous, but their demeanour carried an air of confidence that made him wary.

There was a giggle and, before the stranger even finished their step forward, Bruce knew exactly who they were. His typical vigilance was replaced with the cold, sharp awareness that immediately seized him, whenever his eyes took in the form of his long-term nemesis.

"Joker," he said, not even bothering to hide his irritation. So, not only was this tip an absolute waste of time, it had clearly been a ruse for the madman to enact whatever new, terrible scheme his warped mind had concocted. "What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," the clown replied, voice saccharine sweet, as he took a second step forward.

Bruce's stance turned defensive, his fists curling, ready for attack, but Joker held his hands up in surrender and immediately retraced his second step.

"Ah-ah-ah," Joker said, holding up a gloved finger. "No fisticuffs, if you please. I've put a lot of effort into this evening-" His hand travelled downwards, before coming back up. "-which you would see, if you'd cared to look, and I'd hate for it to go to waste."

Bruce frowned, but remained where he was, as his eyes gave the clown a quick once-over. He began at the feet and his blue eyes widened to discover the Joker was wearing a pair of glossy heels.

"Like them?" Joker asked, twisting his left ankle to give his companion a better view of the shoe. "I should hope so; I got them for you, after all and they were _very_ expensive."

Bruce ignored the comment and the chuckles following, as his gaze moved upwards. In comparison to the footwear, the coat covering the clown's body was perfectly normal, although the black was a far cry from his usual colour palette. When Bruce's eyes reached Joker's face, however, the vigilante finally realised what he'd meant by making an effort. Green, chin-length hair-it must have grown, since his last stay at Arkham, Bruce realised-was curled and perfectly coiffed into a style befitting the Hollywood starlets of old and his usual makeup had been adjusted, trading the nightmarish slash of crimson for a ruby pout and heavy shadows around the eyes for a design far more elegant and graceful. Delicate blush darkened each cheek and, when combined, the look resembled something that wouldn't have looked out of place in a modern fashion magazine.

The poor lighting meant that the Joker's garish colouring was toned down to something far more monochromatic and the entire look left him resembling a macabre Marilyn Monroe. Not until the word _beautiful_ entered his mind, did Bruce realised he'd been openly staring.

"You approve?" Joker asked, his voice soft and low, as a smile curved those immaculately painted lips. Both hands were in his pockets and he crossed his ankles, resulting in a pose that would have made Marlene Dietrich proud.

"What do you want?" Bruce demanded, his fists still clenched, as he ignored the way it had got a little harder to breath.

Joker's eyes swivelled sideways and he pursed his lips, as a finger rested against his chin in mock contemplation. "Just the usual. Death, destruction and chaos…and a pony!" he chuckled, before his hand returned to the coat pocket and he tilted his head coquettishly. "Oh, and you…on _that_ chair-" He nodded to the seat behind Bruce, before his grin widened. "-wearing _these_."

There was a metallic rattle, as Joker pulled an item from each pocket. Bruce's body tensed and, although it wasn't a weapon dangling off the end of each index finger, the vigilante's body didn't relax in the slightest. His pulse started to race, as he watched the handcuffs gently swing back and forth.

Despite the apprehension running through his veins, Bruce couldn't keep himself from asking the question. "Why?"

Joker didn't reply right away, instead letting his gaze bore into the man opposite for a long moment, as the smile shrank a little. "We've been doing this for a while, you and me," he finally replied, eyes falling to the ground, as he made his way over to the table. The sound of sharp heels connecting with solid wood echoed throughout the room. "And it's been fun and all, but, lately, I can't help feeling that we've been getting stuck into something of a rut." The handcuffs were placed upon the table, before Joker's eyes returned to the vigilante. "At least, I thought we were," he continued, with a smirk. "Until our last little _rendezvous_."

Bruce's eyes narrowed, unfortunately all too aware of what the clown meant. The last time he and Joker had met, they had engaged in one of their most brutal fights yet, until…

Bruce pushed the memory aside.

"Of course, you ruined it all by throwing me back into Arkham, but my spell in the loony bin did give me plenty of time to mull things over." Joker looked down once again, as his hands began to untie the belt cinching his waist. "You see, it's never been a secret how I feel about you." Purple fingers began to work on the buttons running down the centre of his coat. "I've made my sentiments quite clear on a number of occasions." Joker looked up and winked. "But, working out what's going on in that batty little brain of yours has always been a bit more challenging."

The buttons came undone at a steady pace, one at a time and Bruce watched the process with more fascination than he should. Either Joker was unaware of the vigilante's scrutiny, or he simply didn't care to acknowledge it, because the clown continued talking in a maddeningly conversational, yet still somewhat suggestive manner.

"You've always been the stoic type, preferring to let your fists do the talking, so, of course, you can imagine my surprise when, during our last fight, I closed my eyes, expecting another blissful right hook to the jaw, only to end up getting…" Joker paused for dramatic effect. "A kiss?"

Bruce's eyes immediately ducked, as the memory returned and he felt his cheeks heat with shame. It had been a mistake, an inexplicable spur-of-the-moment impulse that he'd been unable to explain and had refused to dwell upon afterwards. He couldn't escape it in his sleep, though and when news of the Joker's latest escape reached his ears, it had left a knot in his stomach for entirely different reasons than usual.

Joker took a step towards him, eyes never leaving Bruce's face.

"Now, it's rather unfair of you to change the rules of our little game without telling me," the clown chided with a giggle and an accusatory wag of his finger. He moved forward again. "But never let it be said that I'm not a quick learner." Another step. "And if you're going to start changing the rules…"

Joker stopped less than a foot away from Bruce, the smirk still plastered across his lips, green eyes glittering, as they gazed into blue. With a quick shrug of the shoulders, the coat slipped off, landing at Joker's feet in a dark puddle. "Then so am I."

Bruce's jaw dropped.

Whatever he'd expected to be concealed by the coat couldn't have been further from the reality currently facing him and Bruce couldn't have looked away, even if he wanted to. The Joker was stood before him, clad in a purple suit jacket and green silk shirt, both open to reveal a torso wrapped in a skin tight black bodice and skimpy black lace knickers covering his lower half. On his long legs were purple stockings, finishing mid-thigh, edged with yet more lace. Combined with the flawless makeup and hair and those damned heels, it showed a side of the Joker Bruce had never even imagined was possible…and it made his stomach flip.

It was wrong, Bruce told himself, so very, _completely_ wrong. Everything about it was ridiculous and bizarre and wrong, very wrong and…

Bruce couldn't look away. His pulse was hammering now and his mouth had started to go dry. The palms of his hands, still clenched at his sides, were growing moist and, no matter how many times he tried to remind himself of how wrong, wrong, _wrong_ this scenario was, his body was telling him something very different. There was hardly any room between the two men now and Bruce found himself rooted to the spot.

"Does Batsy like what he sees?" Joker asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as it escaped that infuriating, smiling mouth. "Methinks he does."

He leaned forward slightly and a tongue slid out, running along Bruce's jaw, stopping at his chin. The vigilante's head jerked back and his eyes widened in panic. Taking a step back, Bruce cleared his throat, before speaking.

"What do you _want_?" he asked.

"I already told you," Joker replied calmly.

" _Why_?"

An arched eyebrow lifted. "Because I think you want this just as much as me, but you're too afraid to _ask_."

Bruce glowered and, instead of even bothering to deny it, he spat out another question. "And if I refuse?"

Joker shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "Nothing."

Bruce frowned, having expected a very different answer and scepticism laced his tone. "Nothing?"

"That's right," Joker confirmed. "You go out that door, we go our separate ways and pretend that this never happened."

Bruce's gaze narrowed and his growl deepened. "There's a trick, there always is."

The smile fell from the clown's lips and he shook his head. "Nope, not this time. No tricks, no games. Just you, me, that chair and those handcuffs. A one-time offer that I am giving to you and you alone. All you have to do is take it."

"You're offering me a choice?" Bruce queried in disbelief. He was tempted to pinch himself, just to check he wasn't in the midst of some wacky dream. It didn't immediately register that he'd used the word dream, rather than nightmare until much later.

"Of course," Joker confirmed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It'd be no fun if I had to _force_ myself upon you. I know you'll give a much better-ahem- _performance_ if you're enjoying yourself, too. I want our first time to be memorable for all the right reasons."

Joker waggled his eyebrows suggestively, as Bruce stared, utterly dumbfounded, the full weight of the situation crashing upon him. Batman was stood in the middle of a room, with a Joker clad in women's lingerie, who wanted to handcuff him to a chair and…do _what_? He couldn't even begin to fathom the implications of Joker's offer, but the suspicion bred from years of experience couldn't be easily swayed.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Bruce asked, with a voice far steadier than he'd expected it to be. "If I leave, you could do anything, hurt anyone simply out of spite."

Joker's face took on an expression of mock solemnity and he nodded slowly. "I could," he said, before closing the space between them once again. Purple fingers reached out and rested lightly on armoured wrists, before tapping a slow path up towards Bruce's shoulders, impossibly green eyes following the movement. "But, I'd hope that, if Batman was ever going to take a leap of faith, it might be during the _one time_ I dabble in honesty."

Bruce didn't even bother trying to question why he hadn't immediately pushed the clown away, his attention taken up by the way those long fingers kept drumming gently against his arms, shoulders and chest. Could he do it? Joker was offering himself on a plate and leaving the decision entirely in Bruce's hands-or so he _said_. It could still all be complete bullshit, but Bruce also knew that, if the clown had any kind of leverage, he'd never hesitate to use it if there was a chance things weren't going his way.

And what if Bruce did say yes? What then? How could the Batman possibly defend such an act, holding himself up as a pillar of justice and righteousness, if he ended up doing God-knows-what with one of the city's most notorious criminals? Joker could easily use this against him and, even if he didn't, Bruce was sure that things would irrevocably change, that they'd never go back to the way they were before.

But, would that be such a _bad_ thing? What if there was a way to use this as an opportunity to do some good? Beating the Hell out of the clown had never managed to subdue him. If anything, it only spurred the madman on, so what if a new tactic was needed? To call it a novel way of fighting crime was the most ridiculous understatement of the century, but then Batman didn't exactly do things by the book, although this was more like taking the book and throwing into a bonfire!

Of course, to throw a spanner in the works, that small, secret part of Bruce that he'd always tried to ignore, that wondered whether there was any genuine feeling beneath the clown's relentless flirting, spoke up. It told him to quit making excuses and come to a damn decision. Bruce would have told it that the decision wasn't exactly an easy one to make, but knew it'd never listen. It was, after all, that stupid little part of his mind that was responsible for getting him into this whole mess in the first place.

Throughout Bruce's internal monologue, Joker's hands had started to slide up his neck, allowing thumbs to run slowly back and forth along his jawline. Their noses were close enough to touch and only precious inches kept their lips apart. The proximity only served to make Bruce's inner quandary that much harder.

"So," Joker breathed, warm air brushing against Bruce's lips. "What'll it be? The door, or the chair?"

The clown was obviously done with waiting and Bruce knew his answer would have to come sooner or later. Stay or go. Door or chair. Go home alone, or spend the night with a man looking far more delectable than any sane man would have considered him to be.

Bruce swallowed and briefly closed his eyes. The blood rushing around his body was deafening in his ears and his heart thudded wildly against his chest, but the fact that he was still stood there told him everything. When he opened them, his decision was made.

Ensnared by blue eyes possessing a fiery determination, Joker watched as Bruce took slow and deliberate steps backwards, before carefully sitting in the chair, his arms lying loosely on the thin armrests. The clown's entire face lit up, like a child witnessing Christmas for the very first time and a breathless laugh of excitement fell from his lips, before he quickly turned and retrieved the handcuffs from the table, as well as rummaging through the bundle of cloth on the floor, to pluck a couple more items from the pockets. Bruce didn't see what they were and didn't bother to ask, too busy refereeing the war within his mind between the desire to flee and anticipation for what was to come.

Joker returned and placed the two unknown items on the floor beside the chair, before standing directly in front of the sitting vigilante. For a moment he did nothing more than stare, biting his bottom lip as a flare of hunger blazed in his eyes. Then, with a quick shake of his head, the clown returned to himself and proceeded to secure his prey. The cuffs snapped shut around Bruce's wrists and the vigilante knew there was no turning back, now. It was time to throw all hesitation aside and simply let this play out. His palms grew sweatier.

Hastily kicking off his shoes, Joker carefully straddled Bruce's lap and placed his hands on the vigilante's shoulders, using them as leverage to slowly slide himself up Bruce's thighs until their chests almost touched. Holding the cowled face in his hands, he started gently tilting it this way and that, offering it the sort of careful examination an antiques dealer would offer a priceless piece of china. Those green eyes were practically glowing and Bruce wasn't sure how to describe his feelings at being the one responsible.

"Hmm," Joker purred. "All the things I could do to you."

Bruce swallowed the dry lump in his throat as a tongue came out to taste him a second time, this time commencing from where it left off, languorously running from his chin, travelling over Bruce's lips and finishing at the tip of his nose. "But where to begin?"

The question was rhetorical, but, even if Bruce had been required to answer, the ability of speech was beyond his grasp. Joker slowly brought their lips together in a soft, lingering kiss and Bruce froze, his mind momentarily whiting out as it remembered the feel of that mouth against his. All too soon, those lips left his and Joker leaned back, something akin to genuine concern lining his features.

"Baby, baby, baby," he cooed in a voice so warm and syrupy that Bruce struggled against the impulse to close his eyes. "You need to _relax_." Thumbs stroked circles into the vigilante's exposed skin. "Would it help if you pretended I'm someone else for now?"

For a moment, Bruce considered it, he really, really did. But, seeing Joker like this, doing things like _that_...no, the image was burnt indelibly into his mind. He couldn't have imagined the clown to be anyone else and, if entirely honest with himself, Bruce didn't want to. Besides, it would have been cheating. Joker had come here and set this all up, but left the choice entirely in Bruce's hands. As the clown had said, nobody was going to be forced into doing anything, so it was only fair that, by agreeing to do this, he committed fully.

He shook his head in response to Joker's query.

"Alright," the clown said in response, his thumbs still moving. "We'll go slowly, then, shall we?"

Joker leaned forward again and his tongue slithered out between his teeth, the tip pressing against the spot where cowl met skin. The connection was gentle, but, to Bruce, it felt like a being struck by lightning. His eyes closed as it began at the left cheekbone, travelling along the entire rim of the mask, under the nose, sliding down the right side of Bruce's face, slowly running beneath the chin, before returning to where it had started. Then, the tongue moved along the hollow of the cheek, to land at the corner of Bruce's lips. Joker made two small circles, before the tongue retreated to be replaced with a kiss. It was no more than a lingering peck, coming back twice, before the tongue made its presence known yet again, tracing the curve of the vigilante's cupid's bow.

Nerves ablaze, his mind lost to the teasing ministrations of the man on his lap, Bruce didn't hesitate to open his mouth when the Joker licked along his bottom lip and their mouths met in a kiss possessing more tenderness than he'd expected either of them capable of. It was achingly slow, but growing deeper by the second, as their tongues sought one another and Bruce tried to categorise the different flavours meeting his taste buds. The most prominent was peppermint, clean and refreshing, but, beneath that, refusing to be subdued was something else, something unidentifiable, yet unmistakably _Joker_. It was what he had gotten a hint of the last time they kissed, that taste of danger, as well as all that was supposed to be forbidden.

Except it wasn't forbidden any longer and, the more Bruce got, the more he found himself wanting it. The movement of their mouths increased in speed and, as Bruce's tongue delved deeper, he felt a soft moan climb up the Joker's throat. On instinct, his hands moved, wanting to hold the body making that sound, but the cut of metal against his gloves reminded him of his submissive position.

A giggle filtered into the kiss and Joker pulled back just a little. Both men were breathing heavily and, opening his eyes, Bruce saw the clown watching him with a triumphant grin on his face. The lipstick that had been expertly applied was now smudged, starting to once again resemble its more common application and, if he'd had a mirror, the vigilante would have seen his own mouth in a similar state.

"That's more like it," Joker remarked breathlessly, his tongue darting out to run along his lips.

Bruce watched that tongue like a hawk, before his head darted forward and he captured the clown's mouth once again. Joker gasped in surprise, before immediately kissing back, but, whereas the first had been slow and careful, this kiss was fuelled by need and a hunger starting to grow between them. Teeth, tongues and lips clashed, as the men began a battle for dominance that was far more reminiscent of their usual interactions. Joker's arms tightened their grip around the vigilante's neck and his body started moving against him. Bruce's arms stirred again and the frustration at his lack of mobility seeped into his actions, making him kiss harder, teeth nipping and lips sucking.

The noises coming from the clown were beginning to grow louder and more obscene and they spurred Bruce on. If Joker wanted the vigilante to enjoy himself, well that's exactly what he was going to do. He could feel the desire curling in his belly and, when Joker pulled back again, Bruce couldn't restrain the soft growl that escaped him. His bottom lip was taken by Joker's teeth and gently tugged, before a grin spread across the clown's mouth that was nothing short of sinful.

Joker's right arm retreated from around Bruce's neck, before a purple hand slowly slid down an armoured chest, to rest at the buckle of the belt encircling the vigilante's waist. After a quick drum of fingers against the metal, the hand continued its journey, before coming to rest at his crotch.

"Darling," Joker said, his voice low and husky. "Be an angel and tell me how this opens up."

Bruce levelled his gaze at the other man. "If you uncuff me, I could do it myself."

Joker's grin grew even wider and he bit his lip, before placing several quick kisses to Bruce's mouth. "Patience, Dear," he sing-songed.

Bruce quickly relented and offered instructions, each word interrupted with a kiss from the clown. It seemed as though, now that Joker had been given a taste, he was unable to get enough and Bruce couldn't summon it within himself to complain. In no time at all, deft fingers were removing the plate of armour, tossing it carelessly to the floor, before the gloved palm returned to the now unprotected area.

Bruce's gasp at the sudden sensation of the Joker palming him was swallowed by yet another meeting of their lips and, combined with the feel of that devilish tongue massaging his, the vigilante grew hard very quickly.

"Oh," Joker giggled. "I think daddy's ready to come out and play!"

Much to Bruce's frustration, the hand left his crotch and went to the Joker's mouth, before his teeth seized the tip of the middle finger and, with a tug, the glove was removed. It joined the armour already littering the floor. Bare skin met Bruce's cheek for the first time and he felt how cool the clown's temperature was. The fingers trailed along his jaw, before reaching his mouth.

"My hands are a bit cold," Joker said, with a pout that would put a supermodel to shame. "Think you can warm them up for me?"

Bruce didn't hesitate to open his mouth and let two pale fingers slide in. Joker watched as the vigilante took them in almost up to the knuckle, before tightening his lips around them and starting to suck. Bruce's tongue started stroking, paying each digit the utmost attention and it was with great satisfaction that he saw Joker's eyelids grow heavy, as his stained lips parted. The smile was gone, replaced with an expression of smouldering want and his breathing grew heavy.

When the fingers slowly withdrew, Bruce moved his attention to the ring and pinkie fingers and Joker was almost panting by the end of it. It soon grew too much for the clown and he snatched his hand away, before claiming Bruce's mouth again in a bruising assault. The attack was met head-on by the other, until the feel of fingers diving into underwear and closing around him made Bruce falter. Joker's palm tightened just a little, before it started to move slowly back and forth in a steady, coaxing rhythm. Bruce's eyes were closed and he tried so very hard to focus on letting oxygen enter his lungs, but the way those fingers were moving over him, as teeth grazed his chin was too much and he let his head loll forwards, to rest in the crook of Joker's neck.

The heat curling in his belly grew, a coil of arousal starting to tighten, as his heavy breaths ghosted over the pale skin of Joker's throat. Without conscious thought, his mouth closed over the soft skin, his tongue wetting it, before teeth started grazing. The clown purred in approval and he started to pump faster, rocking his hips in time with his hand, making Bruce bite harder. It was becoming a vicious cycle that would have a very delicious outcome.

That ending wasn't far away, as the breathing was interspersed with grunts and moans and Bruce really, _really_ wished he wasn't cuffed to the chair. His hands were itching to grab, to do something, _anything_ , that would make the man in his lip offer the same noises being pumped out of him. The heat grew and that coil wound tighter, until Bruce was able to do no more than simply pant into Joker's neck. It wasn't going to be long now and his hands gripped the edges of the armrests, anticipation and excitement almost reaching a crescendo.

But, just as that moment was about to arrive, Joker's hand let go and withdrew, before the clown leaned back to study the addled man before him.

"Wha-"

Bruce's protest was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips.

"Shh, shh, shh," Joker whispered. "Not yet, Darling, not yet."

After another kiss, this time wet and sloppy, Joker slowly slid off of Bruce's lap and lowered himself to his knees. Blue eyes locked with green and the expression on the clown's face was nothing short of wicked. Bruce knew what was to come and his assumptions were confirmed, when he was carefully freed from the confines of his underwear and Joker started pumping once more.

When that tongue emerged again to start tracing patterns around his tip, Bruce let out a choked gasp, but it was nothing compared to what came next. Joker's hand slid backwards and cupped his balls, before those crimson lips enveloped him and Bruce's eyes widened, as his mouth fell open. He felt the pressure increase, as Joker started to suck and Bruce's head fell back, as his eyes rolled and he let out a curse.

Every single one of Bruce's nerve endings was ablaze, and the fire in his belly was steadily growing into an inferno, as that clever mouth devoured and fingers caressed him in ways he'd never imagined. The sounds leaving him were wanton and he couldn't even care how loud they were, because being sucked off by the Joker just felt far too _good_. Had sense not abandoned him, the vigilante would have tried to argue that it shouldn't feel this way, that he shouldn't be _enjoying_ this, that it was wrong and disgusting, but his mind was too far gone. There was no way to deny how it felt, his body unwilling to ignore what was happening. The knot in his stomach tightened even more and his hands struggled against the restraints, as the pressure built to unbearable levels. He wanted to…he _needed_ to…

With a cry, Bruce came, as his back arched and his hands clenched into tight fists, the fingers wishing they could feel something other than the fabric of his gloves. Joker didn't stop, until he milked every last drop out of Bruce, swallowing it all with hungry gulps that should have repelled, but only further encouraged the vigilante's desire. Bruce's chest heaved with every deep breath he took and his body trembled with aftershocks, as Joker's mouth carefully released him.

It was with dim awareness that he felt the clown climb back onto his lap, before hands levered his heavy face upright again. The kiss that followed was lazy, messy and the taste of himself didn't prevent Bruce from letting his tongue explore that damn mouth. Joker was purring again, his entire body seeming to hum with pleasure at the reactions he was getting from his precious bat.

"Oh, you," he murmured between kisses. "Are just too-" Kiss. "-damn-" Kiss. "- _delicious_!"

Their lips continued to meet and it was a long time before either came back up for air. Joker's hands were all over Bruce, caressing his face, sliding up and down his neck, shoulders and arms, running along the symbol emblazoned across his chest. He was like an addict given an infinite supply of his favourite drug, unable to contain the excitement of his intoxication.

Joker let out a deep growl, before finally parting their mouths and his feverish gaze raked over the man before him. He ran his fingers through his hair, dishevelling the perfection, as his tongue twitched across his swollen lips. His breathing was erratic and Bruce briefly wondered if Joker was about to combust. With the sudden grace of a cat, the clown leapt off Bruce and reached for one of the objects he'd placed on the floor. When he returned, Bruce looked down to see a small bottle of lube clutched in his gloveless hand. The other purple glove was yanked off impatiently, before the lid of the bottle popped open.

Bruce's throat went dry again, as Joker spread the translucent liquid liberally over his fingers, letting the bottle fall carelessly between them. When Joker's gaze finally met his, Bruce was offered a cheeky grin, before the clown wiggled glistening fingers and quirked an eyebrow.

"My turn," he said, before hooking his left arm around Bruce's neck and tucking the other behind his own back.

The clown's form lifted off the vigilante's lap for a moment and his back arched, before sinking back down. Bruce wondered for a moment what was happening, until he saw the clown's eyes glaze over, as he chewed his bottom lip.

 _Oh, God, not that_ , Bruce thought. _Anything but_ that.

If being restrained a hardship before, it became unbearable now. There was no way he could sit there, with the Joker straddling his lap and watch the clown finger himself, without being able to do a damn fucking thing about it. His penis, still soft and sensitive from the hand and blow jobs it had just received, twitched in response to the show being put on for him. Their foreheads were pressed together and, what had started out as endless quick, clumsy kisses, soon became nothing more than panting into one another's mouths.

Bruce's arms continued to rebel against the handcuffs and he was ready to break the chair if necessary, just to get free, not caring about the damage he would do to himself if he tried. He wanted to be free, to be able to put his hands on the man giggling and moaning in his lap. Joker appeared unaware of Bruce's dilemma, far too preoccupied with himself, until the sounds of metal clashing against wood reached his ears.

The grin that Bruce had once wanted to remove with a fist, but now wanted to devour with his mouth, spread across Joker's face, as his lustful gaze met the man struggling beneath him.

"S-something wrong…Dear?" he asked, words catching on the gasps he elicited from himself.

"Uncuff me," Bruce demanded with a kiss.

Joker pulled away. "And why…would I want to do-" His breath hitched, having hit a particularly sensitive spot. "-that?"

Bruce replied with a deep, guttural growl. "Because I'll make it worth your while."

That tone immediately froze the Joker and his eyes quickly gained focus, travelling the expanse of the vigilante's face. It was the clown's turn for his throat to go dry and Bruce saw a deep craving radiate from those green orbs. Infuriatingly, he didn't move, though.

" _Please_ ," Bruce offered and the clown seemed to unravel at the sight of the Batman practically begging. Eyes wide, he nodded and lifted himself, pulling his fingers out, before leaning over to where the other item waited patiently on the floor. Bruce sincerely hoped it was the key.

Still straddling Bruce's lap and impatiently pushing hair away from his eyes, Joker set about unlocking the cuffs that had held his bat in place. The second both his arms were free, Bruce lunged, one arm wrapping around Joker's waist, as he sent the pair of them to the floor. Their landing was somewhat broken by Bruce's free hand, but it didn't stop a rush of air leaving Joker's lungs, as his back slammed against the floorboards. Bruce was beyond caring, though, as he immediately hooked his fingers around the waistband of those ridiculous lace panties and tore them off the clown's body.

After allowing a second to line himself up, Bruce entered the Joker in one sharp thrust. The clown's back arched, his hands gripping the other man's biceps, crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. The room was filled with the gasps, cries and grunts of the two men, as the bat relentlessly pushed into the clown, one hand snaking into green tresses and yanking hard, to expose that long, white throat. He bit down into the flesh and Joker's spine curved even more, his legs wrapping tightly around Bruce in encouragement, finding that perfect angle which would allow the vigilante to plunge in even deeper. When a hand wrapped around his erection and started stroking, the clown almost screamed, before his hand came up for him to bite, if only to alleviate some of the immense pressure.

Releasing the hair, Bruce pushed Joker's hand out of the way and crashed their lips together. He swallowed every single one of the cries of ecstasy that left the madman and, as the vigilante felt that heat building up inside him once again, his pace quickened and the thrusts became harder, as he desperately raced towards that blissful release.

Joker was clinging to him desperately and it was with a strangled shout that he finally came, body convulsing around the man inside him, head thrown back and fist gripping the other man's cape as if his life depended on it. Bruce wasn't far behind, his cries muffled by Joker's neck, as he spilled himself into the clown, before his spent body collapsed atop him.

For a few long moments, the pair didn't move. Their hearts were moving at a thunderous pace, their chests heaving with the effort of breathing and their bodies trembled with the aftershocks of orgasm. Once certain he wasn't about to have a heart attack, Bruce mustered the last of his strength and levered himself up a little, before rolling onto his back.

It was a while before either man was able to breathe normally again and, for a few minutes, silence hung in the air. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't comfortable, either and it left Bruce wondering what would happen next, what path this unexpected turn of events would lead them down. Then, the sound of laughter met his ears and, turning his head sideways, he saw Joker's eyes squeezed shut, as his face creased with amusement. It wasn't the maniacal noise that usually escaped those terrible lips, but a far more genuine sound and within moments, Bruce found himself laughing, too. It wasn't long before the pair was in fits of giggles and joker rolled onto his side, arms wrapping around his middle, as he struggled to speak through the mirth.

"That…has to be…the most ridiculous thing…we've ever done!" the clown exclaimed, eyes watering.

Bruce didn't bother to reply, still too busy laughing.

Eventually, the hilarity subsided and the pair set about making themselves presentable once again. For Bruce, this consisted only of having to reattach the plate of armour that preserved his modesty. Joker required a little more effort, but it wasn't long before he was once again wrapped with the confines of a black coat, although his hair and makeup were a far cry from the polished perfection of before. Bruce took a moment to watch the clown, as he dropped one of the handcuffs back into his pocket and it startled him to realise he preferred the madman in his current dishevelled state, knowing he had been the one responsible for it.

He really was doomed.

Clutching shoes in one hand and the second pair of handcuffs in the other, Joker sauntered over to Bruce and placed the metal rings into his hand. The vigilante frowned, but it was met with a smile.

"A memento," Joker chuckled, before sliding his free hand to the back of Bruce's neck and pulling the armour-clad man in for a final kiss.

It was deep and languorous and Bruce didn't even consider resisting, simply wrapping his arms around the thin man's waist and letting his lips move. With a nibble of the vigilante's bottom lip, Joker eventually pulled away and headed for the door. Opening it, he looked over his shoulder at Bruce.

"Until next time," he winked, before exiting the room, letting the door shut behind him.

It wasn't until leaving the house that Bruce wondered whether the Joker had been responsible for the other tip-offs regarding the gang, and he made a mental note to ask the next time he faced the clown.

Which he absolutely wasn't looking forward to in any way whatsoever.

Not at all.

Honest.


	2. Chapter 2

Sooo...those of you who've followed this story from ages ago might recognise most of this chapter. I basically had a "moment" and went on a deleting spree and chapters 2 and 3 of this story fell victim to it. But I got over myself and have done some rewriting, and was going to wait until they were all done, but figured what the hell, have chapter 2 now! Chapter 3's rewrite is being done as we speak and a completely new chapter is done, too and they should both be ready by next week. And I solemnly swear never to delete them ever again. _Pinky swear_!

* * *

"I've gotta say, Brucie-Boy, you certainly know how to pick a view!"

Bruce didn't respond. He was too busy in the bathroom gauging the force needed to smash some sense into his skull. Unfortunately, the mirror above the sink didn't look as though it'd endure that kind of treatment and his head was enough of a mess already without adding concussion to the mix.

 _"_ What are you _doing_?" he ended up asking himself, boring holes into the eyes that were doing the same right back.

He knew the answer to that - he was in the bathroom of a luxurious hotel suite questioning his sanity while Joker waited in the other room. A better question might have been _why_ but Bruce wasn't going anywhere near that one just yet. And the how? Well, Bruce wasn't sure about that one, either. All he knew was that he'd been sitting at the back of the bar downstairs, waiting for the meeting with a potential client to begin when, instead of a middle aged man carrying too much weight around the middle arrived a man not carrying enough weight anywhere at all.

It'd taken Bruce at least half a minute to recover from the shock, which he'd hoped would make the scared little civilian routine more convincing. And his first question had been: does he know? It'd seemed a hell of a coincidence for Joker to happen to show up in the same place Bruce Wayne was and, looking him up and down, it was clear effort had been made, right down to the wide brimmed hat hiding the distinctive hair and face.

Which had left Bruce wondering what to do next. Leaving would've been the safest bet but…

He had to know. Had to be sure. Just to be safe.

It'd been surprisingly easy to slip back into the Wayne routine, although the tension never eased completely. Joker was up to something and Bruce needed to find out what. But it was difficult to do when Joker was switching the charm right up to eleven and Bruce was trying his damnedest _not_ to think about their last encounter. Not the room or the chair or the handcuffs or stockings and most definitely _not_ about that mouth, that fucking mouth that was smiling at him in a way that'd made Bruce look away.

How the night had progressed from there to the pair of them booking a room was where recollection broke down. One minute they were chatting and, the next, Bruce had half a lapful of clown, a tongue running along his jaw and a whisper in his ear asking if they should take things upstairs. Bruce should've said no. He should. And he still couldn't explain why he hadn't.

As soon as they were inside the room, he'd escaped to the bathroom to breathe and figure out what the fuck to do next, and, after fifteen minutes, had only partially managed one of the two. But he couldn't hide forever, Joker was waiting, so it was time to get this over with.

Emerging from the bathroom, Bruce found Joker lounging on the couch, everything bar shirt and pants discarded and looking for all intents and purposes as if he belonged there.

"Drink?" Bruce asked, if only to stall the moment but Joker shook his head slowly and beckoned Bruce closer with a curl of the finger.

For a man who looked the way he did, Joker shouldn't have been so good at this but he'd always had a way of drawing people in, whether they liked it or not. The fact that Bruce was here was proof of that and, probably most frighteningly of all, he couldn't decide whether he fell into the _like it_ category or... _not_.

As Bruce approached, Joker straightened and reached up for his tie, using it to pull Bruce closer before carefully guiding him down onto the seat to straddle his lap. He placed both palms on Bruce's chest and, for several minutes, just let them rest there as they both watched them move up and down in time with Bruce's breathing. Then Bruce made the mistake of looking up at Joker's face and the expression on it was enough to make him forget why he was even in this position in the first place.

Gradually, Joker's hands began to move slowly and carefully up Bruce's neck, fingertips running along his jaw before continuing upwards. Bruce would have closed his eyes, absorbed by the touch and surprised by the tenderness, but he couldn't bring himself to look away from Joker's face. He wanted to know what that look meant, why he was offering it to Bruce Wayne of all people and he was close to giving in, to asking why Joker had even come here in the first place, if he _knew_ , when fingers began to run through his hair. And _that_ was when Bruce had to close his eyes.

Through everything, cowl and armour had always provided a barrier between them, so to be like this, completely unmasked...he felt…vulnerable...raw. This was...so _intimate_. He could feel it all, every movement of nails and fingertips over his scalp, strands of hair tugging gently as Joker kept running his hands through it. It was addictive and a sigh fell out before Bruce could even stop it.

Joker's hands went still before one travelled down to the nape of Bruce's neck and gripped the hair in a fist, using it to tilt his face upwards as the other cupped his cheek. Then lips met his, so soft and gentle that Bruce could barely feel it, before running all over his face, trailing kisses along his cheek and forehead, over his eyes, down his nose and coming right back to where they started. And, this time, when their lips met they were open and ready, tongues meeting as Bruce's arms wrapped around Joker's waist to pull him nearer.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce's head screaming at him to stop, slow down - _what the hell are you doing_ \- but they were drowned out by the memories of their last kiss, of Joker pinned to the floor underneath him, hands clinging desperately as Bruce moved inside him. How on Earth was sense supposed to compete with that?

The kiss deepened as Joker's hands kept moving through his hair like he simply couldn't get enough, and Bruce couldn't either, hands moving up and down Joker's back, fingers digging into bony hips until Joker pulled away. Their foreheads pressed together, hot air mingling, and Bruce opened his eyes to see Joker chewing his bottom lip. Bruce wanted to pull it out just so he could bite it himself and...no, god, _no_ , they shouldn't be doing this, it wasn't right, this was Joker and Bruce had sworn he wouldn't -

A smile spread across Joker's lipstick stained mouth as he took Bruce's wrist in his hand and brought it up to the collar of his shirt.

"I have a surprise for you," he whispered.

Bruce frowned.

"But you've gotta unwrap it, first."

Joker's tone of voice and the gleam in his eyes made Bruce want to tear the shirt right off his back but he kept himself calm, opening the first button and moving to the next, slow and steady, trying and failing to keep his heart rate in check. The fingers twirling strands of his hair weren't helping.

It was after the fourth button, fingers sliding down to open the fifth, that Bruce saw it. And froze.

Joker was wearing it. He was...he was wearing _it_. Joker was wearing that goddamn fucking ridiculous corset and Bruce could barely breathe. His eyes flew up to meet Joker's and any doubt he had was gone.

Joker knew.

In that moment, there were any number of things Bruce should have done. Deny it. Call the cops. Push Joker off his lap and knock him out. Cart him back to Arkham and get Alfred the fuck out of Gotham. But he didn't. Instead, he just sat there letting his fingers run along the hem of the corset.

Joker giggled and it was almost enough to cut Bruce out of his daze.

"How long?" he finally asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the corset.

"A while," Joker replied, beaming now and continuing in a stage whisper, "But don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

Safe. Nothing was ever safe with Joker. But as Bruce kept touching, eyes glued to the contrast of black fabric against white skin, feeling the weight and heat of Joker's body in his lap, Bruce's initial shock was already starting to dull. It was stupid, he knew that, because Joker had the one piece of knowledge that could bring him down. He could do anything with it, threaten everyone Bruce cared about, blackmail him, even out him. But for reasons as inexplicable as everything else that'd happened so far, Bruce had the feeling he wouldn't.

Joker was still smiling when Bruce looked up again and that, combined with the taste still lingering on his lips and the look bordering on adoration in his eyes once again, was enough for Bruce to dip his fingers into the corset and pull Joker closer. And this time, as they kissed, any sliver of restraint Bruce had shown was gone. He took Joker's mouth with a hunger and passion that made Joker moan and gripped his waist again to bring them flush together. He ran his hands up and down Joker's back again, making it arch and bend and Joker's hands were everywhere, running through Bruce's hair, cupping his face, clutching the collar of his shirt before finally deciding that the tie around his neck had no right to be there.

It was thrown to the floor and Bruce's shirt soon followed suit, Joker's only moments behind and then came the task of taking off the corset which wasn't as easy as he thought it'd be. It left Bruce growling with frustration by the end and Joker's breathy laughter blew into his mouth.

"Impatient little Bat," he said between kisses before his mouth started trailing down Bruce's throat.

With the final hook opened, the corset was gone and Bruce was finally, _finally_ able to run his hands over Joker's body. His fingers roamed, feeling all the dips and peaks of bone, running along all the scars and paying particular attention to the ones he knew he was responsible for. And Joker was doing the same, hands having finally found a reason to leave Bruce's hair as his mouth, still nibbling and sucking at Bruce's neck, moved lower.

When his lips closed over a nipple, Bruce's body reacted impulsively and he brought a hand up to hold Joker's head in place. His tongue - that fucking tongue - started tracing circles as he slid his hand further down to cup Bruce's growing erection. He moved his palm slowly, massaging and caressing and combined with the feel of lips and tongue on his skin, Bruce grew hard very quickly.

Then Joker bit him. Hard. Bruce hissed and buried fingers into Joker's hair to yank his head back but he showed no remorse, just laughed before lunging forward for more kisses.

"You _liked_ it!" Joker whispered, his teeth clamping down on Bruce's bottom lip.

Bruce didn't bother to deny it, not when his body was already making it clear _how much_ he liked it, and he kept on kissing and touching the man in his lap, enjoying every single one of the noises coming from him as he decided to subject him to a little of his own medicine. It was halfway through dragging his nails down Joker's back that he realised his fly had been opened and had to stifle a moan when a hand wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, I've missed _him_ ," Joker purred, slowly licking the shell of Bruce's ear.

Bruce didn't move. He couldn't. He was as frozen in place as a few minutes ago, Joker's hand on him the only thing that registered. It was cool, the grip teasingly gentle and...Bruce wanted to move...wanted to...wanted...

Joker adjusted himself into a more comfortable position, the slight slide of his hand enough to cause a hitch in Bruce's breathing, before leaning closer until their chests were touching and placing a feather-light kiss to his lips.

"I've been thinking about you, y'know," Joker began in a whisper that made Bruce's hands dig into his thighs. And a lick of his jaw made Bruce tip his head back and close his eyes, letting the sound of Joker's murmurs wash over him.

"Thinking about our last little _tussle_." Joker giggled on the last word as he kissed the corner of Bruce's mouth. "About that room...and that chair…and you sitting down on it like a good little boy."

Joker's hand moved downwards just a little and Bruce's breath hitched again.

"And the way you were looking at me when the coat came off. I liked that in particular."

Another kiss, this time to the other corner of Bruce's lips and Bruce would've turned his head to kiss him properly but he was still rendered immobile by the grip Joker had on him. The grip he really wished would just...start...moving.

"And I gotta admit those thoughts were really quite distracting when I was supposed to be getting on with other things, because, before I knew it my hand went a-wanderin' and…"

Joker slid his hand down the length of Bruce's cock in one slow drag, pulling a sigh and moan from him in one breath. Then Joker's thumb started running in a circle around the tip and his other hand buried itself back into Bruce's hair. And Bruce, pulse racing and fingers ready to rip through the fabric of Joker's pants, didn't how much of this he'd be able to take.

"And I inevitably started thinking about all our other trysts," Joker continued, voice still soft, teasing. "All the excitement…all the _pain_."

Joker's thumb stilled and his hand started moving upwards.

"The crack of your knuckles on my jaw. Fingers digging into my hair to slam my head against a wall."

Joker was moving his hand backwards and forwards now at a pace that was excruciatingly slow, punctuating each sentence with a quick kiss. And as Bruce listened, feeling fingers drag through his hair, his breathing grew unsteady and heat pooled in his stomach. His grip on Joker got even tighter.

Lips pressed against Bruce's ear and Joker lowered his voice further. "The way you pin me down...so _so_ angry. Oh, darling, you always do look so beautiful when you're angry."

Joker picked up the pace but only slightly and Bruce couldn't stop his hips moving with it, wanting and needing the friction, and he could feel Joker's growing erection press into his leg, which only made him need and want more.

"The sting of a batarang slicing through my skin." Joker licked him from chin to nose. "All the cuts…the bruises…the _scars_."

This was wrong. All of it was but especially this. He shouldn't be getting aroused by Joker listing all the terrible, awful things he'd done to him, things that he deserved maybe but were still no less horrible for it, and he could've blamed it on simple chemistry, his body reacting to the stimulation of Joker's hand but that wasn't it and they both knew it.

"And then, and _then_ ," Joker continued, his voice getting heavy with his own arousal as his grip in Bruce's hair tightened. "I thought of all the things I wanna do to _you_. There are so, so many, Bats. Wanna hear 'em?"

Silence followed and Bruce realised he was expected to answer. He nodded.

"What was that?" Joker asked with a kiss. "Didn't hear ya."

Bruce had to force the word out. "Y-yes."

A soft chuckle came before Joker whispered once more, words interspersed with soft little bites to Bruce's shoulder. "I wanna tie you up. Nice and tight so you can't move a muscle while I take the suit off piece," _bite_ "by," _bite_ "piece."

On the final word, Joker's teeth sank right into the flesh, making Bruce grunt and moan and, god, this needed to end soon. It was too much, too good and he couldn't -

"Maybe I'll go nice and slow, give it a good build-up."

To echo his words Joker slowed his pace back down, close to but not quite stopping and Bruce couldn't stop the keening noise leaving his mouth.

"Or maybe I'll just tear the whole fucking thing off in one and we'll get straight to the good stuff."

It was said with a snarl and Joker started pumping hard and fast and Bruce arched into the touch, panting and moaning as his grip on Joker went painfully tight. Joker didn't seem to mind.

"Or why not both, huh? Or neither? The possibilities are endless, my love, and I can't wait to try out every. Single. One."

Joker kissed Bruce hard and messy, and the knot in Bruce's stomach was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter with every single word, and when he felt Joker slide his hand out of his hair to start palming himself, Bruce wanted to throw him to the floor and fuck him right into it.

"I gotta admit, though," Joker said against his lips, words coming out rushed and breathless. "I was worried about last time, that finally acting out some of my little fantasies might ruin the magic."

Joker's hips were moving now in the same steady pace as his hand and Bruce was panting, barely able to hear what was being said, lost in what Joker was doing to him, the pressure steadily building up inside.

"I was so wrong. Seeing you like that, listening to you…oh, honey, it was better than I could've imagined. And I don't need imagination anymore, do I? I know _exactly_ how you sound..."

Bruce was close, he could feel it. The heat, the pressure...

"And I know _exactly_ how you feel..."

 _Oh fuck._

"And from now on, whenever I think about it, about _you,_ I'm gonna come so…" _kiss_ "much…" _kiss_ " _harder_."

As if on cue, it hit, Bruce arching, seeing stars as he fell over the edge, cries immediately swallowed by Joker as he kissed him with a hunger that bordered on ferocious, stroking and coaxing out every last drop and letting it spill over them both as Bruce trembled and shuddered underneath him.

And when it was finished, Joker slid both hands into Bruce's hair again, pressing their bodies together as tight as he could, the kiss becoming desperate and Bruce couldn't do anything but take it.

Joker growled and it vibrated in Bruce's mouth before he leaned away just enough to reach the coat draped over the back of the couch. He fished through a pocket impatiently, pulling out a small bottle and dropping it between them before his hands were taking Bruce's face once again, fingers digging into his jaw, mouths coming together again and again and again until Joker let out a whine.

"C'mon... _please_..."

And Bruce didn't think. Not about what he was doing, who he was doing it with, what it'd mean, what'd follow. Didn't think about the thud of Joker's head hitting the arm of the couch as he threw him down onto it, or the bruises that were sure to come from where his hands had been digging so hard into his hips. Didn't think at all. Didn't dare.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of Joker's trousers, he pulled them down and when he saw what was underneath, _that_ was enough to make him pause.

"They worked so well last time," Joker said, wiggling his hips and waggling his eyebrows before tipping his head back with laughter.

And Bruce couldn't stop his own laughter falling out in a soft snort because, well, it was true. Just like the corset, the black lace panties resting on stark white skin sent a shot of heat right the way through him and, for a brief moment, he wondered what Gotham would make of the Batman having a thing for men in women's underwear. But he soon came back to the moment, deciding it didn't fucking matter because Joker was lying there, waiting and so, so ready, erection straining against the lace and Bruce could feel his body gearing up for a second round.

The pants and knickers came off, leaving Joker completely naked on the couch and... _fuck_...

The feeling of his fingers sliding into Joker and the sigh that came when they did was almost too much. And with the sounds Joker was making, the way he bit his lip, arched his back and at one point when Bruce touched a particularly sweet spot bit down hard into his arm, Bruce quickly reached his limit.

He pulled out his fingers, pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees and slicked the lube all over his cock, stroking himself fully hard, which, honestly, didn't take much. And he crawled forward to hover over Joker on hands and knees, letting Joker's hands slide into his hair yet again while his legs wrapped around his hips, before lining himself up and pushing inside.

The last time they'd done this it was just mindless sex, fast and frantic to satisfy a need that'd been building for far too long. And it wasn't much different this time around. Maybe a little slower, a little more purpose in mind but just as desperate, thrusts just as hard, just as deep, mind fogging as he was intoxicated by the man that seemed to invade every one of his senses. The feel of Joker's breath blowing hot against his ear. The sound of it growing more ragged as time went on and breaking every time Bruce reached the spot that made him buck and whine. The drag of fabric against Joker's back and skin hitting skin every time their hips met.

Bruce slipped his hand between them to reach for Joker's cock as he continued to move and the moan he pulled out of Joker as his fingers closed around it made him shudder. His strokes matched his thrusts and he ducked down for the kisses that'd become just as addictive as everything else Joker was doing. And once again the heat and pressure started to build, coiling and winding tight deep down in his belly as Bruce felt himself begin to lose control. Too much, far too much and not even close to being enough, he went harder, faster, deeper, Joker meeting every thrust, kisses becoming messy until they had to give up completely. Joker's head fell back, cries filling the room and Bruce buried his face into the crook of Joker's neck as his free hand gripped the armrest for leverage.

They were close, so, so close and Bruce was aching for it even as he didn't want this to end. Because he knew what waited on the other side when it did, something that'd feel every bit as bad as this felt good. But neither of them were able to hold it off any longer. The muscles surrounding Bruce's cock squeezed and contracted and the arms around his neck tightened their grip as Joker's back bent right back and, with a broken scream, he came into Bruce's hand. And with a few final thrusts Bruce joined him, his fingers digging into the armrest as he felt a rush of heat and ecstasy, his entire body feeling impossibly tight before falling loose. He grunted into Joker's shoulder, emptying into him, riding out the waves of pleasure until he finally fell still in an exhausted, sweaty heap.

It took Bruce a long time to come back down from the high and, when he finally did, when the fog and haze finally cleared, that was when what he'd feared came through. He'd done it again. After last time, after everything he'd said and promised himself, after all the _never agains_ , he'd thrown it aside and given in to a moment of lust. And for what? To spend the next however long feeling like shit.

And the worst part of all was that, right now, with Joker's body underneath him, Bruce still buried deep inside, feeling the heavy rise and fall of Joker's chest match his, the regret Bruce knew he should feel wasn't anywhere close to overwhelming. So what did that say about him?

Eventually, Bruce became aware of the ache in his fingers and he released his grip on the arm of the couch to flex them before they curled into a fist. He needed to keep it together, at least until Joker left. As soon as he was alone he could fall apart.

Joker started nuzzling Bruce's cheek and even with the conflict raging inside, Bruce turned into the touch. He didn't feel in any state to handle affection but couldn't bring himself to refuse it either and when the nuzzling turned to kissing, Bruce dove right in. He kissed back as hard as he could, desperation spilling out of him as he clutched Joker's face in his hands, kissing and kissing and kissing him until he couldn't breathe.

When a sound almost matching Bruce's desperation came from Joker, Bruce knew he had to pull away because it really was too much now. He slowly slid out and moved to the other end of the couch, pulling his pants back up but leaving the zip open. He ran a hand down his face, suddenly bone crushingly exhausted and as the seat beside him shifted, he didn't dare look, despite that indescribable pull begging him to.

Even as he heard the sounds of Joker dressing, putting on his shoes and then reaching for the coat, Bruce's gaze remained fixed to the floor until fingers touched his temple, running through his hair so softly and gently and coming down to his chin to tilt his face upwards.

That look was there once again in those impossibly green eyes and, if he'd been able to speak, Bruce would've told him to stop. He couldn't bear it and certainly didn't feel like he deserved it. And absolutely couldn't acknowledge the part of him begging for more.

When Joker slowly leaned down to press a whisper soft kiss to his lips, Bruce didn't refuse it, kissing back just a fraction harder before Joker finally stepped away.

And with the soft click of the door, he was gone, leaving Bruce alone with the silence and his thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

So, here's the rewrite for chapter three!

* * *

Michael O'Dwyer - or Paddy as he was better known - wasn't a man who surprised easily. In his line of work and the clients that came with it, he'd pretty much seen it all, to the point where a week involving almost amputating the limb of a human crocodile was actually considered pretty slow. So it was kind of refreshing to step into a room and feel his jaw plummet to the floor. That is...until his eyes took in the man lying on the bed and the other stood impatiently beside him, the former being an unconscious Batman and the latter the Joker.

How exactly Batman had ended up in that state and why Joker of all people was the one helping him were questions Paddy didn't bother asking. He knew better than that. Instead, he moved closer to assess the injuries, hoping to get this over and done with as quickly as possible because an entire city wasn't big enough to contain these two at once, let alone a room and, with Joker being the likely cause of Batman's injuries, he didn't want to be here when the fireworks began.

Crouching beside the bed, dropping his bags to the floor and ever aware of the nutjob hovering close by, Paddy got to work. Batman was on his back, weighing down the old bed on sheets that might've once been white but were now stained various shades of red. It was a lot of blood with bullets the cause if the dents in the armour were anything to go by but he'd need to remove the armour to know for sure. But how? The thing was all panels and clips and locks and he couldn't figure out how the Bat even got _in_ to the fucking thing, let alone out of it.

Looking up at Joker, he asked, "You know how this thing works?"

"Just cut it off," Joker said, tone as impatient as the fingers drumming against his thighs. "He's got plenty more!"

Paddy shrugged and opened his bag for a knife. The suit turned out to be a lot easier to remove than he'd thought, a case of holding plates apart - which Joker decided to help with - and cutting through the mesh layer underneath, peeling large sections off at a time until Batman was in nothing but thin black pants and the mask.

And that was where Paddy reached the next hurdle. Batman was unconscious and the only way to check for head injuries was to remove the mask but...well, knowing Batman's identity was a whole lot more trouble than it was worth and to do it in front of Joker, too? But as he leaned closer for a better look, he thought there might be a way to do it without actually taking the whole thing off, maybe just lift it enough to feel around, and his hands were ready to do so when Joker's voice cut through the air like a razor.

"Ah, ah, ah, the mask stays on."

Normally, Paddy would shrug and do as he was told - so long as he got paid who gave a shit - but...but this was _Batman_ and something told him if the guy didn't make a full recovery, Paddy would lose more than just the Joker's custom and he was pretty happy to keep all his limbs as they were thanks very much. But before he could argue, Joker spoke again.

"He didn't hit his head."

Again, Paddy didn't ask any questions, just lowered his hands, took a deep breath and focused on the injuries he _could_ see. There were three major wounds in total, two from bullets and a third from a knife. The cut was deep-ish in Batman's right side but it wasn't life-threatening and, although a lot of blood had been lost, it'd now stopped. And of the bullet wounds, one was nothing more than a severe bruising to the chest, surrounded by several cuts where armour had been forced into the skin. The second bullet wound, however, still had the bullet lodged inside and Paddy wasted no time digging it out of Batman's left bicep before cleaning and bandaging the wound, as well as fixing up the other two. It took time and the constant weight of Joker's gaze didn't make it pass any quicker. Paddy wasn't a nervous man by nature but Joker sure knew how to make him feel like one.

Batman didn't stir throughout, making Paddy wonder if he shouldn't push to check for the head injuries but he kept quiet. No point arguing with the Joker. He did make sure his instructions about after care were made loud and clear, though, telling Joker how to look after the stitches, change bandages and administer the antibiotics. They were being fed to Batman through an IV bag for now - hanging up on the window by a coat hanger - but after a couple of days he'd be able to switch to pills.

It was all said while the pair of them manoeuvred Batman to change the sheets underneath, and whether Joker even heard what was said Paddy didn't know because Joker's eyes were glued to the face still hidden by the mask, and it wasn't until several bottles of pills were shaken in front of him that they finally - _reluctantly_ \- turned to Paddy.

Joker's fingers curled around the bottles before a soft groan had his head turning back to the bed so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

Batman was waking up.

"Get out."

Being reasonably intelligent with a healthy sense of self-preservation, Paddy grabbed the wad of cash dangling from Joker's fingers and packed up his things as fast as he could. And as he walked to the door, he took one last look at the man lying on the bed. Joker was now kneeling beside him, one hand cupping his face as the other ran over the mask almost lovingly. Paddy shuddered and left.

Apparently Batman was going to be nursed back to health by the Joker.

Poor bastard.

Bruce felt like he'd been hit by a truck. Or several, if the agony surging through his entire body was anything to go by. He tried opening his eyes but when a fresh wave of pain shot right the way through his skull, Bruce quickly changed his mind. God, what...what'd he done? His limbs felt impossibly heavy, like they were being tied down and his wrist twitched reflexively as panic set in, but it quickly subsided when he realised he wasn't actually restrained. He was just in pain, _a lot_ of pain, but he couldn't remember what he'd done to cause it.

Fighting through it, Bruce tried to lever himself up but something cool pressed against his chest and gently forced him back down.

"Relax," said a voice Bruce was sure he knew. He tried to speak but an extremely dry throat and the feeling of his skull trying to shrink a size smaller than his brain meant that all he managed was a mangled cross between a croak and a hiss. Something pressed against his lips before sliding in between and it took Bruce a moment to realise it was a straw. At least, he _hoped_ it was.

"Drink."

A hand slid round to the back of Bruce's neck and tilted his head forwards and Bruce did as he was told, the feeling of cold water running down his throat so unbelievably good that he wanted to chug the whole lot down, but the straw forced him to take sensible sips one at a time. And it took a while but eventually he reached the bottom of whatever it was holding the water and his head was lowered back down, the hand at the back of his neck sliding round to cup his face before a thumb started gently tracing an eyebrow. Bruce sighed. It felt good.

"Shh, go back to sleep."

Lips pressed gently to Bruce's forehead and he didn't even think to argue.

Bruce wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up again but the pain was considerably less. He could actually open his eyes now. But before he did a voice reached his ears, the same one as before and, this time, he let himself put a name to it. Joker. And instantly thoughts and memories came to him that he really wasn't in a position to deal with yet, of handcuffs and hotel rooms and a hand running through his hair during a kiss goodbye…

Bruce forced them away to come back to the present.

The whats, hows and whys of his current situation were questions Bruce would answer later. For now, he finally opened his eyes to see Joker sat on the floor a few feet away, back to him with his legs crossed and leaning forward to focus on...something. It wasn't often he got to catch Joker like this, unawares and without an audience and, despite himself, Bruce was quickly hooked, watching as Joker's head started bobbing in time with the hums and whistles coming from his mouth, shoulders occasionally joining in and hand moving through the air like a conductor's wand.

Bruce didn't realise he was smiling until a soft little laugh almost fell out and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath before bringing the odd little moment to an end.

"Joker," he said in a voice that sounded as if it'd been dragged through gravel and put in a blender. Christ, he sounded _awful_!

Joker twisted to face him, a smile - one of _those_ smiles - spreading across his face.

"Sleeping Beauty's finally awake, I see," he said, unfolding those ridiculously long legs to climb to his feet.

The bed dipped as he took a seat by Bruce's waist, reaching for the glass on the bedside table to offer another drink of water, but Bruce held his hand up before the straw could reach his lips. He was about to say that he wanted to sit up but a dull sting stopped him and his eyes fell to the cannula plugged into his left hand. He frowned, eyes travelling up the thin tube until it reached the bag hanging from the window, but any chance to ask was stopped by Joker pressing a finger to his lips. A finger Bruce'd once taken into his mouth…

 _No_.

"Now, I can already see your paranoid little mind concocting all manner of wild theories," Joker said, glass going back to the table. "So lemme explain. You had a run in with Deadshot last night. Not sure what you did to piss him off _this_ time but he managed to get in a cracking shot and you went down like a sack of bricks. Then some kid decided to get a hit in while you were down but, thankfully, _I_ came along -" Joker placed a palm to his chest and bowed his head like some sort of saintly saviour. "- and chased the little asshole away!"

It took a moment for the words to properly sink in and, when they did, Bruce's frown grew even deeper. Deadshot? Deadshot...he - yeah, that was it. Bruce had been following him...but why and how the chase had landed Bruce in this position were details he couldn't remember just yet. He made a half-hearted attempt to dig through the fog but his head soon made it clear it wasn't ready, so he gave up and closed his eyes. The details would come back soon enough, he was sure. Wasn't like he could do much about any of it yet anyway.

But...it seemed pretty convenient for Joker to be on the scene at just the right time and, with him right here, that was an answer Bruce _could_ get.

"What -" he began but his throat was still so dry that what came out was a squeak that somehow managed to be high-pitched and gruff at the same time.

Joker reached for the water again. "Drink first," he said. "Questions after."

Bruce nodded and tried to lever himself up but as soon as any weight was placed on his left arm, pain flared along the entire length of it and he hissed.

"You're gonna have to be careful with yourself for a while, Batsy," Joker remarked. "Ol' Deadders got you good and proper." He put the drink down. "You wanna sit up, yes?"

Bruce nodded and Joker climbed onto the bed to settle beside him, sliding one arm round to support Bruce's back as the other wrapped around his good arm and very slowly pulled him upright. Then Joker squeezed himself into the small space between Bruce and the headboard, legs stretching out either side, before settling Bruce's back against his chest and offering the drink for a third time.

Just like before, Bruce took small sips and waited until the glass was empty before finally asking his question. "Why were you there?"

"Oh, y'know," Joker said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just getting some air."

Bruce didn't believe that for a second but didn't question it, he didn't have the energy. He did, however, want to know exactly how Joker had _chased_ the kid away. If someone was hurt, he needed to know.

"He's alive and well, don't you worry your pretty head." Joker ruffled Bruce's hair. "But he won't be masturbating any time soon, lemme tell you."

There was a bark of laughter and Bruce tried to twist his head round to glare at Joker.

"What - "

"Oh, calm down," Joker said. "It was just a few fingers. They'll heal in no time!"

"You broke his _fingers_?"

"Not _all_ of them," Joker insisted. "I'm pretty sure the pinkies are still working."

"Joker!"

" _What_? It served him right! If he's gonna play with the big boys, he's gotta be prepared for the consequences."

Bruce faced forwards again and let out a sigh as arms looped around the his neck, Joker's cheek pressing against his.

"Oh, don't be like that, Bats," Joker whined. "At least I didn't kill him."

Bruce didn't say anything.

"Besides," Joker continued. "Think of the positives. He's now seen the error of his ways. Another of Gotham's youths back on the straight and narrow, thanks to yours truly." Joker gently pinched Bruce's cheek. "And you are very welcome, Darling!"

None of that did anything to make Bruce feel better. Especially because he wasn't sure how much of it was bullshit. He'd have to look into it as soon as he got out of here...which led straight to the next question.

"How'd I get here?"

"I shan't bore you with the details," Joker said, face moving away from Bruce's as his hands slid back into his hair. "Just know that it took a tremendous amount of effort and you owe me a new car. The upholstery's ruined! Good job you're loaded, eh?"

Joker giggled and Bruce tried very hard not to give into the surge of panic that came with the reminder that Joker knew who he really was. Or the way he'd found out that Joker knew who he was. And he definitely didn't want to think about the implications of being rescued by him. That was a little too much to absorb even on a good day.

So, instead, as fingers started running through Bruce's hair again in a way that he wished wouldn't feel quite _so_ good, Bruce chose to finally get a good look at where he was. It didn't take long. The room was practically empty, just the bed he and Joker sat on, the table beside it and a chair near the opposite wall with an old television resting on it. Yet there was something vaguely familiar about the room that Bruce couldn't quite put his finger on. He was sure he'd been here before but once again didn't push his memory. It could wait.

(Of course, when he finally did realise why, he still pretended he didn't.)

On the floor, Bruce finally saw what'd kept Joker so occupied, three bottles lined up with pills all around them, many arranged into separate little piles. However, the reason behind it or where Joker had gotten them in the first place wasn't so obvious but, following the direction of his gaze, Joker answered before Bruce even had to ask.

"You were in pretty bad shape when I got you here, so I called a buddy of mine. The pills are for you."

"What are they?"

"Painkillers, antibiotics."

"Oh," Bruce said, feeling dense. What else would they have been? Well, knowing Joker, they could've been anything.

"You sound disappointed, love. Want something stronger? I'm sure I could oblige."

Bruce shook his head and that was when it suddenly - _finally_ \- dawned on him; he wasn't wearing the cowl. His body stiffened and Joker's fingers stilled in response.

"Where's the suit?" he asked.

"Over there." Joker pointed to the far corner of the room. "And in even worse shape than you, I'm afraid. We had to cut it off and I dunno how all those silly locks work. I mean, seriously, how do you take a piss? Do you just hold it in?"

He giggled but Bruce was silent and that was when Joker caught on.

"Oh, right. Don't worry, I kept the mask on until the good doctor left." Joker patted his cheek. "This gorgeous face is a treat for me alone."

Relief washed over Bruce and he closed his eyes again. That was too close a call for his liking. Nodding to the broken suit he asked, "Is it there?"

"Mm-hmm. Why?"

"I need to call..." Bruce stopped, realising he'd been about to give Alfred's name...before remembering Joker already fucking knew it. "I need to call Alfred."

There was a pause before Joker spoke and Bruce could've sworn there was disappointment in his voice when he did. "Right now?"

"He needs to know that I'm ok," Bruce explained. "Or alive, at least."

There was another pause before Joker nodded and slowly extricated himself from his little nook to grab the cowl and hand it over. Then he settled back on the floor as Bruce started fiddling with the comms unit and pulled it out to make the call.

Alfred answered immediately and Bruce felt a pang of remorse for once again being the cause of the exhaustion and anxiety in the old man's voice. He wondered how many years Alfred would've lost purely from worry alone.

"Where are you?" Alfred asked. "I'll bring the car to pick you up."

Bruce's eyes immediately went to Joker to find those green eyes staring right back at him and what he saw in them he didn't dare name, even as it made his chest tighten and stomach twist. And it took barely a minute for Bruce to wade through the indecision before he gave Alfred an answer.

"Don't bother. I'll be alright, I'm with -"

He looked at Joker again, wondering if a word even existed to describe what Joker was to him. In the end he settled for something simple.

"...a friend."

Something warm and soft and so very dangerous bloomed in those green eyes, followed by a small smile before Joker nodded and his attention went back to the pills.

It took several more assurances for Alfred to finally accept Bruce would be okay and, after a promise to return in a few days, Bruce ended the call and dropped the cowl to the floor. And then the room was silent. Bruce had no idea what to say or do next and Joker, for once, didn't seem to be in any rush to run his mouth, so he was left lying there and feeling awkward for minutes that felt like hours until a deep growl came from the direction of his stomach.

Joker giggled. "Hungry?"

And that's how one of the weirdest weeks Bruce'd ever had began.

Before now, if Bruce'd been asked to describe spending a week with Joker, his answer would've been simple: a nightmare. But the reality was surprisingly - alarmingly - different and a whole lot more... _domestic_ than he'd ever imagined. Or as domestic as recovery from knife and bullet wounds could ever be.

Bruce barely moved from the bed the first couple of days as Joker catered to his every need, from changing bandages and checking the wounds to even trying to feed him. But Bruce had to draw the line at that, there were only so many times a smear of sauce across his chin or nose could be passed off as an accident. And it didn't escape his notice how little of the food Joker ate himself, to the point where Bruce had to nag and then refuse to eat until Joker finally gave in and shoved an entire baguette down his throat. Joker then spent the rest of the day lying at the end of the bed whining about belly ache.

When the IV drip was finally taken out, Bruce, if he'd been able to, would've jumped for joy. Going to the bathroom was hard enough with knife and bullet wounds without having to navigate the wires of the bag and it was then that he finally figured out what Joker had been doing the first day. He'd sorted the pills into their required doses and put them into small plastic cups, meaning all Bruce had to do was grab one and down the contents three times a day. It was a very small thing but so ridiculously considerate that Bruce's brain had needed a jump start to function again.

In fact, throughout his stay, Joker was the most gracious and amiable Bruce had ever known him and he was immediately looking for the trick, the con, the ulterior motive. Joker was never just nice to people, never went out of his way for them, so what was this about? If he'd simply called for help and disappeared, Bruce would've understood but to be so eager about looking after Bruce himself? He thought about the look he'd seen in those green eyes, so much like what he'd seen the last time they were together, and the tenderness of Joker's touch whenever they ran through his hair or fixed his bandages. There shouldn't have been any tenderness between them - God knows their relationship or whatever the hell this was had never been built on _that_ \- yet here it was being heaped on him. And a horrible, dark, nasty little part of himself that he knew was there but rarely acknowledged, that knew the answer to his question _why_ , couldn't get enough.

By the end of the week, Bruce realised just how deeply he'd fallen.

The room was a soft, dusky orange when he opened his eyes, bathed in the light of either sunrise or sunset, he couldn't quite tell. It was completely silent and a quick sweep of the room told him he was alone. It wasn't unusual for Joker to disappear for short periods of time but Bruce still wondered where he was, what trouble he might be getting into while Batman was out of commission. He didn't think too hard on it, though, already sinking back into the sleepy fog he'd barely come out of and carefully rolled onto his side to doze off again...to come face to face with Joker.

In all the time Bruce'd known him, he'd never seen Joker sleeping before. Sedated, yes and unconscious more times than he could count, but never actually dead-to-the-world-for-no-other-reason-than-genuine-exhaustion asleep. Like his appetite, Joker's sleep pattern was practically non-existent and he'd often wished he could bottle whatever the hell it was that kept Joker going because, seriously...how?

Faced with such a rare opportunity, some of Bruce's sleepiness shook itself off and he let himself take in the sight of a man usually moving at a hundred miles an hour now lying so uncharacteristically still. He was on his front, face half buried in the pillow, hair sticking out in all directions and Bruce's hand moved before he could stop it to gently push the hair out of his eyes before running a finger slowly from temple to chin.

It didn't wake Joker up completely but it was enough to make him stir, shuffling closer and tucking himself into Bruce, settling his face into the crook of Bruce's neck. A small smile tugged at Bruce's lips as his arm automatically slid around Joker's waist and he felt the lips ghosting against his throat do the same before lifting to steal a quick kiss. It was nothing more than a peck but it was the first kiss they'd shared all week and Bruce immediately went in for more. Kiss after kiss after kiss, each one just a little harder than before until Joker finally opened his mouth to capture Bruce's fully.

Bruce could've blamed it on the medication...being half asleep...or any number of silly excuses but...well, that's exactly what they were. Excuses. And Bruce could've stopped at any time, when lips started slowly moving against his, or when the tongue gently slid between his teeth or when fingers buried themselves in his hair. But he didn't. He just kept kissing back, letting it go deeper, using the arm around Joker's waist to pull him closer before his hands slid underneath Joker's shirt. He ran them up and down Joker's back and Joker's hands weren't still, either, sliding out of Bruce's hair to travel down his neck, chest and abdomen, palms pressing in and nails scratching lightly to make Bruce shiver and moan. He slid one leg between Bruce's thighs, the other hooking over his hip and then reached for Bruce's hand to press it against the front of his shirt. The instruction was clear even without words and Bruce wasted no time opening the first button, followed by the rest to gradually offer full access to the body underneath.

Just as slowly, Bruce moved his hand back up, pushing the shirt off Joker's shoulder to run his lips all over with soft kisses and teasing little bites, pressing his teeth in just a little harder when he heard the hitch in Joker's breath. He did it again and again, until the breaths turned into a moan and Joker's hips rocked against him, mouths meeting once more.

How long they were there, kissing and touching, Bruce couldn't say. Time felt like it was stretching out forever yet passing in the blink of an eye and it didn't seem to matter how much he got, it never felt like quite enough. It'd never been like this between them before, so soft and slow, lazy, like they had all the time in the world. But slow and lazy could only last so long because as the kisses got deeper, Joker's hips moved against him more persistently and he was halfway on top of Bruce when he suddenly stopped.

"Oh, the things I wanna do to you," Joker purred against his lips.

 _Then do them_.

It wasn't until Joker's giggle vibrated in Bruce's mouth that he realised he'd said it out loud and after a whole lot more kissing Joker finally replied.

"So very tempting, sweetheart, but Gotham's already gone without her protector for almost a week and I don't want the Bat anymore broken than he already is."

Now, this was sound reasoning, it was but with Joker's body pressed so tightly against his, still moving and those lips refusing to leave alone, that reasoning didn't feel all that reasonable. Bruce didn't want to stop, he wanted to lie here with Joker and keep kissing and touching every part of him. For once just forget _everything else_ and lose himself for a little while.

But the reminder of Batman's absence had already been aired and it was soon the only thing Bruce could think about. The number of people he wouldn't have helped, crimes he wouldn't have stopped. It was only six days but this was Gotham and a lot could happen in that time.

So he gave in, made himself stop and closed his eyes, rolling onto his side again but not yet letting Joker go. And he waited, pressing their foreheads together, letting their combined breathing and the quiet of the room help him wind down until he was sure he could probably keep himself under control.

When he opened his eyes, Joker's were there waiting, impossibly bright green with a gaze that seemed to swallow Bruce whole. And it was then that Bruce let the question that'd plagued him for the past week fall out.

"Why are you doing this?"

Joker didn't answer right away, running his fingers through Bruce's hair as his eyes circled every part of his face. Searching. Hoping.

"Isn't it obvious?" he eventually said and Bruce didn't reply because...yes, it was and he wasn't anywhere near ready to deal with something like that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. But definitely not yet.

And Joker didn't push, just tucking himself into Bruce's side again, telling Bruce that as this was his last day here, he should make the most of it. Bruce didn't argue. He closed his eyes and, with Joker warm in his arms, drifted back off to sleep.

It was several hours later that Bruce gathered his things together to leave. Alfred was waiting for him just a block away and, with the shredded suit in a trash bag and dressed in clothes he didn't bother to ask for the origin of, Bruce waited by the door as he said his goodbyes.

"See ya later, alligator," Joker said, before adding, "Y'know, I tried that on Croc once. He didn't appreciate it, though."

"He's not an alligator. He's a crocodile."

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to. And technically he's neither."

Wasn't a lot Bruce could do but nod in agreement to that and he gripped the door handle but wasn't quite able to turn it. He didn't know why, or rather he did but didn't want to _admit_ it and what followed was probably the most uncomfortable silence that'd ever existed between them.

Joker broke it by stepping forward and taking Bruce's face in his hands to give him a quick, tender kiss. And then he stepped back and he was looking at Bruce _like that_ and his smile was...god, his _smile_ …

Bruce snapped, dropped the bag and pushed Joker up against the wall in a desperate kiss, fingers tangling in Joker's hair, kissing hard, so hard, as if he might be able to leave a part of himself here or take a part of Joker with him if only he kissed him _hard enough_. And Joker took and returned it all and Bruce was close to forgetting all about Alfred and home just to stay right here.

But he couldn't and the growing ache in his arm was just enough to bring Bruce back to his senses. He couldn't stay, shouldn't want to and he needed to leave right now before he did something he'd eventually regret.

Stepping away and opening the door, Bruce left without a word.

* * *

Soooo, those who read the original will notice the smut has gone. Sorry, but I just didn't think it worked too well for this chapter and you're gonna get a whole load of it in chapter four so hopefully that'll make up for it : )


	4. Chapter 4

If given the choice between a social gathering or single-handedly taking on every one of Gotham's rogues at once, Bruce'd be tempted to go for the latter. A bit dramatic, perhaps, but tonight it fit. It wasn't necessarily the people, they were pleasant enough, and in the grand scheme of shitty life experiences an evening of dancing and fine wine didn't even register but...well, it was probably fair to say that the lifespan of Bruce's social battery wasn't as long as it used to be. And for reasons he was struggling to come to terms with, he wasn't exactly in the party mood.

Luckily, he wasn't the host of tonight's event so could slip away earlier than usual and, stepping inside the manor, pulling off the bow tie and jacket and throwing them onto the floor - he'd pick them up later - Bruce headed straight for the bedroom. There'd been no signal tonight and, usually by this time if it hadn't been lit it wasn't going to be, so he planned to spend the remainder of it sitting on his ass eating bad food and watching even worse television and, who knew, he might even sleep.

But everything came to a grinding halt when he felt the faint breeze coming through the gap where the door had been left ajar. Bruce didn't remember opening his window and Alfred was enjoying a much-deserved weekend off. Which meant…

Pressing himself up against the wall, Bruce carefully pushed the door open, listening for even the slightest sound and, when none came, he slowly stepped inside.

His eyes scanned the room and when they landed on the bed and the figure lounging on it as casually as if it was their own, Bruce let out a long breath. But the tension didn't ease, it just swapped for a different kind.

"Joker?" Bruce said, voice just above a whisper.

"Surprise!" Joker said, springing upright almost like a jack-in-the-box as a beaming grin spread across his face.

For a long minute, Bruce couldn't do anything more than stare. It'd been almost...two months since they last saw each other? Two months since _that week_ that Bruce still couldn't quite believe had actually happened, even though he had the scar on his arm and memories to prove it. And seeing Joker again, sitting there in the dim light, eyes glowing in a way that pierced right through him and smiling, oh God _smiling_ at him _like that_ , like he was the most wonderful, precious, important thing in the world, it was all Bruce could do not to pin Joker down onto the mattress and kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

Until he remembered that this was the Joker, who knew who Batman was, where he lived and apparently wasn't above breaking into his home, and he should be a whole lot more fucking terrified about that than his pulse seemed to suggest he was.

Thank God Alfred wasn't here.

"How...how did you...get in?" Bruce's eyes went to the window. They were three floors up and this wasn't the easiest building to climb and, looking back at Joker, he didn't exactly look dressed for the occasion. Although, there was no telling what Joker might have hidden underneath the coat.

And that's when Bruce caught sight of Joker's feet and ankles and the green lace covering them and the pair of purple patent heels lying at the foot of the bed.

Oh.

Grin even wider now, spotting the direction Bruce's eyes had taken him, Joker wiggled his toes before sliding to the edge of the bed and beckoning Bruce closer with a curl of his index finger. Like a moth to a toxic flame, Bruce didn't bother to resist.

"So, you look nice," Joker said, climbing to his knees as he slid his hands up Bruce's chest to rest on his shoulders. "Where've ya been?"

 _Hi, honey, how was your day?_ It was ridiculous having a conversation like this with someone like _him,_ especially when there were a whole lot of other things they should be talking about instead, but the fingers sliding into his collar made him lose his train of thought.

"Uh...a party."

"And you didn't invite _me_?"

"Wasn't my party," Bruce explained before returning to the previous topic of conversation. Or trying to anyway. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," Joker said, voice soft and warm and sweet as he started nuzzling Bruce's face. "Missed you, y'know."

Bruce almost said it back, before reminding himself he shouldn't be thinking that way and wondering if really he should slow things down so they could...talk...or something...about before.

 _Why are you doing this?_

 _Isn't it obvious?_

But lips were on his before he could say a word and, as usual, the fight was over before it'd barely begun. He kissed back, hands sliding into Joker's hair, letting mouth and tongue show Joker that, yes, he'd missed him too. However much he knew he shouldn't, there wasn't much point denying it, not anymore. Eight weeks without a single word or sighting of Joker and, although that had him anxious for all the usual reasons, it was for very different ones, too, ones involving slow, morning kisses tangled with sleep-warmed limbs. It'd been near impossible, ever since that first night in a crummy old house handcuffed to a chair, for Bruce to think about much else, and the week spent with Joker playing nurse left Bruce dangerously close to admitting something he knew deep down he shouldn't, that he was now past the point of being able to ignore.

With a soft purr, Joker pulled away, both of them breathing hard, lipstick everywhere and he started opening buttons, mouth trailing across Bruce's jaw as he said, "Missed that, too."

Bruce hummed an agreement, words beyond him for the moment as his grip in Joker's hair got just a little bit tighter. Licking and nibbling his ear, Joker whispered into it. "And you're not the only who got dressed up, tonight."

Bruce's hands were guided to the coat and he opened it without question, a very good idea of what Joker might be wearing in mind and pulse kicking up a gear at the thought. But when the buttons were all opened, he didn't remove the coat right away, sliding his hands inside instead to let his fingers run over more lace and...was that silk? Bruce lifted his eyes to Joker's, which had somehow managed to get even brighter, and went in for another kiss as he slid the coat off Joker's shoulders and threw it to the floor.

When Bruce finally saw exactly what Joker was wearing, the smile was on his face before he could stop it and he shook his head.

"That...really isn't fair," he said with just a hint of desperation, thumbs brushing over the dark green bodice wrapped around the waist that was already much smaller than it should be, before moving his hands down over hips, ass and thighs, fiddling with the clips holding the stockings in place, warring with the need to take it all off yet wanting to leave it all on because, well, it looked good. Very good. _Too_ good.

Joker's tongue ran along Bruce's jaw, making his skin tingle and grip tighten, fingers digging into Joker's hips.

"Says the guy teasing me with that fucking suit for years," Joker said and Bruce was a little too distracted to understand what he was talking about right away.

"You mean the batsuit?"

Joker rolled his eyes, actually _rolled his eyes_ at him. "No, I mean the Prada you wore for a conference call last week. Of course I mean the batsuit!" Joker dipped his hands into the waistband of Bruce's pants that Bruce didn't remember being opened, grabbing his backside to give the cheeks a playful squeeze. "Wandering around in bdsm gear and wondering why a weirdo like me can't keep his hands off you."

Bruce didn't have chance to reply or wonder exactly how Joker knew what suit he'd worn to the office last week because there were kissing again, hotter and hungrier now but just as unrushed, hands everywhere, Bruce losing his shirt in a matter of seconds before Joker tugged at his pants to pull them both down onto the bed.

Bruce braced his landing with a hand either side of Joker's head as legs wrapped around his waist to lock him in place and, from there, just like _every single other time_ , he was lost. Kissing and touching, tasting, feeling, hips grinding as their bodies moved without thought, any protests of _wrong wrong wrong_ that'd rung in Bruce's head the first couple of times noticeably absent this time around.

And as heavy moans and sighs reached Bruce's ears, Bruce could've had him right there, just torn off the lace and the silk and fucked him right into the mattress, pulled out every scream that he possibly could, but…no. No. He didn't want to. Well, no, he _did_ but…he wanted...

Bruce didn't really know what he wanted, he just knew that Joker's ice cold skin was making his own feel feverishly hot and when another gust of air blew in from the open window, hitting his back and making him shiver, Bruce used it as an excuse to pull away. He needed a minute. Just a minute. Just to breathe.

Joker protested at first, thighs squeezing Bruce's hips before reluctantly letting him go and Bruce felt the weight of that gaze on him as he walked to the window to shut it. He closed his eyes, hands resting on the window pane and took several deep breaths to try and get his heart rate under control.

Shit, they should...they should _talk_ about this, about all of it. It was out of control, had already gone so much further than it ever should and he - _they_ \- needed to figure out just what the hell this was because he was Batman for crying out fucking loud and Joker was, well, _Joker_ and -

Fingers ran up Bruce's back, lips pressing against his ear.

"Hey," Joker whispered, before turning Bruce to face him, bringing their lips gently together.

Hands in Bruce's hair, fingers scratching his scalp, that mouth working against his and making him melt, Jesus, he was so weak. And after promising himself that they _would_ talk about this later, Bruce kissed back and pulled Joker closer, lifting him up and letting Joker's legs return to his waist to carry him back to the bed. And when he felt the fever building again, this time he didn't stop. He kept kissing and kissing, fingers roaming all over Joker's skin as he felt Joker's hands dip back into his waistband, cupping his backside again and pushing it down to increase the friction, make them grind harder, just a little faster, making both of them moan, Joker's skin warming as the heat between them grew.

And Bruce tried to let this part last as long as it possibly could - because it really did feel good - but with Joker's mouth now teasing his ear and sending all the blood south, he soon gave up.

Pulling away again, Bruce raced to the bathroom to grab the bottle of lube and returned to the sight of Joker still on the bed, back arched as he palmed himself. And for a good few minutes, Bruce just watched and Joker seemed well aware of his audience as he slipped his hand into the lace to start stroking himself, arching even more as his head tilted back and bottom lip disappeared between his teeth.

"H-honey," Joker said, word catching as he continued to stroke. "If you don't..get over here I might just do your job for you."

That was all the encouragement Bruce needed and he walked back over to the bed, taking hold of Joker's wrist and pulling it away before lifting his ankle up to his mouth. He started making a trail of soft, slow kisses right the way along his leg, taking his time, sometimes pausing to bite into the flesh and getting more than a few hums of approval as he did. And Joker didn't rush him along, just as happy to take it slow, bright eyes fixed on Bruce the entire time, watching.

Reaching the clip holding the stockings up, Bruce kissed and nipped Joker's inner thigh as he opened them both, sliding his hands up to hook into the knickers and slowly pull them down, revealing a crop of green hair before the erection sprang free. It was already leaking precome and Bruce couldn't resist leaning forward to run his tongue over the tip, circling it to get a hiss in return before pulling away. Joker whined, clearly wanting more and, biting back a smile as something playful was pulled out of him, Bruce dipped his mouth down to the sensitive stretch of skin just above Joker's thigh and sank his teeth in.

"Again," Joker growled and Bruce obeyed, storing this little bit of information away to remember for next time.

Next time. _Next time._

He bit again and again and, for good measure, once more, harder each time until he heard fingers burying into the sheets and decided to move things along.

Slicking his fingers, Bruce chose to keep it slow, wanting to carry on what they'd started in that sun drenched room all those weeks ago. It was a struggle, even with that desire but all he needed to do was look up, see Joker's face with eyes shut and mouth open, the way one hand was buried in his hair as the other held onto a pillow so tight that his knuckles managed to turn an even whiter shade than the rest of him, see the way Joker was moving and sighing and moaning so beautifully with every circle and stroke, every slow drag of fingers, the colour dusting Joker's cheeks grow warmer and warmer as Bruce hit the sweet spot again and again.

When Bruce sensed Joker getting close, felt how tight his whole body was becoming, and with his own body aching now for attention, he started to withdraw, but Joker took his wrist in a vice-like grip and shook his head frantically, pushing Bruce's fingers all the way back in and moving his hips before Bruce could have a chance to argue.

Running his lips down Joker's hip bone and thigh, Bruce did as he was told and seeing just how hard Joker's cock was, took it in his hand, stroking in time and making Joker pant into his palm as he edged him closer and closer to release.

All at once the muscles surrounding Bruce's fingers contracted, Joker's head tipping back and body arching right off the bed as he came hard into Bruce's hand, spilling onto the sheets, cry cutting off halfway through and ending in a gasp.

Bruce slowly pulled out his fingers, wiping both hands on the sheets when Joker started smacking his stomach. It took a moment to click but when it did Bruce unlaced the bodice and opened it up, letting Joker take in deep, greedy breaths.

Bruce gave him a moment, needing to catch a breath himself, letting his eyes roam over the man lying sated on his bed, lipstick smudged all over his cheeks and chin with blotches running down his neck and chest, wild green hair fanning out in all directions to create a picture that made Bruce's mind do pretty much the same.

"You're...you're very good at that," Joker murmured but didn't get a reply as Bruce started kissing him again. And it only took a moment for Joker to start kissing back, mouth moving eagerly with his, pushing Bruce onto his back and breathlessly demanding that they quit going slow, hips slamming down hard over and over to leave Bruce gasping and blinking back stars, Joker coming right after with cries that would've likely been heard from every corner of the mansion.

When Bruce finally opened his eyes again, Joker was still sat there, straddling him with his head hanging back, panting in air. Heart still hammering, Bruce let his fingers slide up, softly running over ribs and that was when Joker finally looked down at him with lidded eyes as a grin slowly spread across his lips.

Lifting himself off, Joker dropped onto the bed and rolled to face Bruce with a very soft and contented sigh. Then he giggled and slid down to tug Bruce's pants off completely, throwing them to the floor before crawling back up on hands and knees to give the side of Bruce's face a lick.

Settling his head onto Bruce's chest and drawing patterns absently through the fine dark hairs, he said, "You're very good at that, too."

Bruce smiled and drew patterns of his own over Joker's shoulder blades and let them stay that way for a while, letting the night slow right back down until Joker buried his face into his chest with a yawn wide enough to make his jaw pop. Then he climbed into the sheets and laid on his side, back to Bruce, reaching for Bruce's arm to bring him closer so that they could curl up together. Spooning. They were _spooning_ and it was so beyond the realms of bizarre that Bruce actually giggled, earning a soft "Hmm?" from Joker in return.

"Nothing," Bruce said, closing his eyes to follow Joker into sleep.

When Bruce woke, the space beside him was empty. He reached out almost instinctively, hand running over sheets that were still warm and, spotting the purple coat still lying on the floor, as well as various other items of green and lacy clothing, let himself relax just a little. Joker hadn't left. He refused to think on why he'd worry about that in the first place and rolled over to doze once more.

The second time he woke, it was with a weight on his chest and, opening his eyes, found Joker sitting on him, a jar in one hand, spoon in the other and something black wrapped around his body. Rubbing a hand over his eyes to clear them, Bruce looked again and realised the jar was full of chocolate and the black thing he wore was a satin robe that Bruce only vaguely remembered owning.

"Good morning, Mister Wayne," Joker said, before shoving the spoon into his mouth and grinning around it. "Sleep well?"

"Did you?" Bruce frowned. He hoped Joker hadn't been up _all_ night. He dreaded to think what he might've done to amuse himself if he had.

"Like a log," Joker declared. "Only got up about an hour ago."

Well, that was new. Joker wasn't exactly a forty winks sort of guy. Even during the week spent in his care, catching Joker asleep had been a rarity.

Joker pulled out the spoon and, still grinning, leaned down for a slow and chocolatey kiss. "Quite the workout you gave me last night, y'know. I'm aching in the most _delightful_ ways."

Another kiss, one Bruce decided to extend a little longer than the last and Joker sat up once again to attack the contents of the jar. Bruce frowned again.

"You know there's actual food in this house."

Joker gave him a look. "Darling, the last thing you want is me fiddling with the oven."

"No, I mean toast, cereals, fruit. Not just jars of chocolate."

"I need the calories, babe. And this was the tastiest thing to hand."

Bruce rolled his eyes as Joker scooped a ridiculous amount of chocolate out of the jar and shoved the whole lot into his mouth just to spite him. Then he wiggled his hips and winked.

"Besides you, of course."

Still muggy with the remnants of sleep, and unable to remember any of the important things he was sure he had to do, Bruce let himself smile at the comment, shifting slightly to rest his hands on Joker's thighs, wondering what may or may not be underneath the robe.

Before he could find out, however, Joker dropped the spoon beside him and dipped his finger into the jar, scooping out more chocolate before leaning forward to make his intentions clear.

"Open wide," Joker said with a grin and, despite not being all that keen on the stuff himself, Bruce opened his mouth to let the finger slip inside. He ran his tongue slowly over it, cleaning off every bit of the chocolate before closing his lips tight and sucking hard, dragging his teeth along the whole length of the finger.

Bruce heard the hitch in Joker's breath and the reminder of their first time wasn't lost on him either, so he did it again, teeth pressing in harder second time around and that was when the finger was replaced with Joker's mouth, tongue catching his own in a kiss that was harder but just as slow as before. And Bruce let his hands travel up Joker's thighs, slipping underneath the robe to discover he wasn't wearing anything else at all. Oh god, and Bruce thought the lingerie hadn't been fair. Now Joker was in nothing but black satin and Bruce may have only been awake for a few minutes but his body was most definitely responding. It didn't go unnoticed.

Joker dipped a finger into the jar again, smearing the chocolate over Bruce's throat.

"Oops," he said with the sort of smile Bruce was never going to be able to resist. "You got a little something...here, let me."

With a slow grind of his hips, he slid down Bruce's body just enough for their cocks to brush against one another and Bruce's eyes fluttered closed as Joker started licking and sucking the chocolate off his neck. When every last bit of it was gone, skin now pink, Joker slid further down and, this time, the chocolate was smeared over Bruce's nipple, making Bruce moan and dig his fingers into Joker's lower back as it was cleaned away. And almost every part of Bruce's upper body was given the treatment, smears of chocolate everywhere being licked, sucked and kissed clean, Bruce lying back with eyes closed and enjoying every last bit of it. When the chocolate inevitably met his mouth, Joker dutifully removed it with kisses that quickly grew hotter as the grinding grew more insistent and when a hand snaked between them to start massaging them both, Bruce murmured a request that Joker was only too happy to fulfill.

With Joker on his back, they went long and slow, breath hot in Bruce's ear as Joker gasped and moaned his way to orgasm. Bruce's own was languid when it came, pleasure rolling over him in waves as Joker's name fell out through the heavy breaths, Joker replying with, "I know, love, I know," and kissing him until the shudders stopped and both of them fell still.

When they were curled up together again, the room completely silent now, Bruce watched as Joker's eyes gradually drifted shut before letting his own do the same.

It was late afternoon by the time the pair finally emerged from the bedroom, Bruce's stomach voicing its needs loud and clear.

"Can you cook?" Joker asked as he planted himself up on the countertop, still wearing nothing but the robe. "Thought you had staff for that."

"Just because I have a lot of money, doesn't make me completely helpless," Bruce said, heading for one of the cupboards. "I'm not an expert but I can get by."

Today, however, he didn't have the energy to show off any meagre culinary skills, so settled for pulling out boxes of cereal and milk and bowls and placing them beside Joker. Of course, Joker didn't bother with a bowl or the milk and just started eating straight from the box.

Bruce let it go because, now that he was out of the bedroom, no longer within touching distance of Joker and his brain had been given chance to function as it should, it was time do what he'd been putting off since last night. Time to talk.

His stomach twisted at the thought and a dozen excuses for why it could wait made themselves known but he pushed through. He couldn't avoid it forever.

Bracing himself with hands on the island, he said quietly, "Joker…"

Hearing the tone of voice, Joker turned, the handful of cereal dropped back into the box. "Uh-oh," he said and giggled. "We're having _the talk_ , aren't we?"

"Yes."

Sliding down, Joker stood the opposite side of the island and mirrored Bruce's pose. Great. Because why should he have expected Joker to take this seriously.

"Well...then talk."

And...Bruce paused. He didn't have a clue where to begin. He knew what he _wanted_ to say but finding the actual words to _say_ it wasn't so easy. Because, really, what it came down to was _I really enjoyed this morning and last night and the time before that and the times before_ that _and I want to do it again but you're a criminal and I'm Batman and this wrong and I shouldn't be doing it and what the fuck is wrong with me?_

In the end he sighed and said, "What are we doing?"

Joker shrugged. "Having breakfast?"

"Come on, Joker, you know what I mean."

"I'm quite sure I don't."

Bruce glared. _Make it easy, just once_. And for a minute that seemed to last a whole lot longer, they just looked at one another, Bruce wondering what the hell to say and Joker clearly refusing to help. But for whatever reason, Joker soon decided to give in and let out a ridiculously overdramatic groan.

"My dearest, darling Batty-cakes," he began, slowly making his way around the island towards Bruce.

"You know exactly what we're doing and why," Joker used his index fingers to draw a large heart over Bruce's chest, pushing his fingers in at the point at the bottom. "But what you're struggling with is that fact that you, as the self-appointed saviour of the city, can't really fuck a nasty little thing like me without being something of a nasty little thing yourself. And now you're trying to find a way to reconcile it."

Joker paused looking Bruce right in the eyes. Sometimes Bruce wished he had a dial to turn the intensity down, especially at times like this.

"But," Joker continued, fingers now sliding up to his shoulders. "The fact is that _you_ started this with all your smoochy smoochy and since neither of us is realistically gonna change who we are, you're left with one more choice. Push past all that heavy nonsense and accept this for what it is, or...end it." The smile and light in Joker's eyes dimmed ever so slightly then. "And then you and your Wang of Justice can carry on safe in the knowledge that you've done the _right thing_."

Joker's arms were looped around Bruce's neck now, faces too close or maybe not close enough and Bruce was trying very hard to focus on everything Joker was saying, because he'd actually laid it out pretty clearly and concisely, but now that one phrase was stuck in his head and he couldn't possibly shake it.

"Wang of Justice?"

Joker giggled. "Don't like it? How about...Cock of Courage?"

Bruce grimaced. That was even worse.

"No? Hmm...Rod of Righteousness. Tallywacker of Truth! Really, I could go all day, I have a list…"

As Joker reeled off suggestions, Bruce started to laugh, which he really shouldn't have been given the moral quandary he was trying to wade through, but Joker holding him and smiling and just looking at him like that was infectious and after what might've been the twentieth suggestion, Bruce had to stop him.

"No more," he begged. "I can't…"

However he'd planned to finish the sentence remained a mystery because Joker's lips pressed against his. "Guess we'll stick with Bat-cock, then."

"Oh my god…"

Joker giggled and Bruce was pulled into another kiss, one that involved him lifting Joker onto the island and parting the robe to slide his hands inside as Joker wrapped his legs around Bruce's waist. And they were both so lost in each other - so much for that _talk_ \- that neither noticed their audience until the sound of a bag hitting the floor had them both turning to see someone stood in the doorway.

Alfred.

Oh…

 _Shit._


End file.
